


nothing beside remains

by atramento



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Canon, Sad, Sad Ending, Vomiting, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28998987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atramento/pseuds/atramento
Summary: Ramsey struggles with the fact that his family will likely soon fade into irrelevancy.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	nothing beside remains

The party had ended at least a couple of hours ago. He should go to bed and perhaps get some rest to recuperate. But Mortimer Ramsey was not feeling restful or considerate of, well, anyone. Instead he sat on the rooftop of his ancestral home smoking a cigar and clutching one of the last bottles of a certain vintage not unlike one would grip a sword. 

“Fucking... smug, all of them...” Ramsey groaned, his words slurring slightly as he talked around the fat smoke between his lips. “One last hurrah... stupid fucking--” 

He set the cigar down, letting it trail smoke languidly beside him as he uncapped the wine by sticking a pocket knife into the cork and twisting it out in that primitive fashion. The bottle settled between his legs while he pried the cork off the knife and tossed wayward towards another’s manor. He’d let  _ their _ manservants clean it for him. 

“ _ This _ is a last hurrah you smug Hannon bastard!” Ramsey brought the wine bottle to his lips and chugged about half of the bottle before granting it a similar fate to the cork. Never mind that he was already somewhat buzzed; Ramsey grinned when he heard the distant splatter of glass and wine. 

If only the rest of his life were so satisfying. 

Out here he could see more of Dunwall. How vast and lonely the city seemed; Ramsey felt smaller just sitting on this damned roof. A coil of clouds also passed by, dragging their humid knuckles across the manor in an almost tempting manner. 

If only he could make like a cloud himself and drift far up and away from his family. Where would he go? He had no clue, just that he wanted to leave their arrears behind. The Ramseys were finished as it stood; piled in coins of debt and no one willing to bail them out in the slightest. That was merely the cutthroat nature of Dunwall’s noble court; didn’t make it sting less when Ramsey thought about all his false friends already moving on to the next grand score. 

Ramsey had not realized he had stood up in that interim of thought nor that he was leaning perilously over one side of the roof until his cigar had slipped out of his opening mouth and fell steeply, leaving a sad spray of ashes and embers against the ground. “Fuck,” Ramsey groaned, still staring at the spot where the cigar should be among the growing roots of grass. “Fuck me...” The alcohol and the bottle were fine to drop but he had wanted to finish that smoke at the very least. 

And of course, the realization that he almost walked himself off the roof came next. He really should get down back to safety... 

Although it was a clear violation of his common sense, Ramsey took a hazardous next step forward anyway. He didn’t feel his feet lose ground-- but he sure did feel the roof coming up suddenly to greet the back of his head painfully. Ramsey slid quite a distance down the roof before his fingers caught between shingles and the grip held steady. “Ah...” 

Dunwall was suddenly a lot less stable looking and Ramsey had to blink several times from his new viewpoint before the city stopped making him nauseous. “Ulp... Got to...” With his arms shaking violently now, Ramsey just managed to pull himself up a few of the shingles. He had some vague idea that there was a window above him in wait but he was too uneasy to risk tilting his head in any direction. 

His stomach clenched a little more as he climbed in excruciating silence. With every gradual inch up the side of the roof Ramsey feared his grip would weaken just enough and he would go plummeting to the ground. A final indignity for the entire family... But no, Ramsey’s quivering arms remained just secure enough for him to eventually feel a windowsill as he reached upward. He could almost cry out in relief. Almost. 

Naturally, Ramsey thought with what perception he could scrape together, this would be the hardest part. The final stretch of his arduous climb as it were. 

If he failed now-- well, Ramsey didn’t want to ponder on yet another failure. He wouldn’t fail; no he simply would  _ not  _ allow it! Even in the throes of poverty, he was still a Ramsey. And Ramseys did not let any little thing stop them from what they wanted; not even a damned windowsill and not even when what they wanted was to simply not slip and fall to their death. 

An attempt to grapple the windowsill was made with his left hand first. Ramsey figured, in the fogged rationale of his mind, that his right arm would maintain a stronger grip on the shingles. But despite his relatively reasonable assumption, his left hand grasped the sill for about an entire second before slipping and causing Ramsey to wobble. He hissed out a curse as the tips of that hand’s fingers seared with stinging but ultimately harmless pain. 

The damn thing was humid from the air, from those same clouds that had taunted him before. A slick windowsill... he contemplated once more his right hand losing grip and him tumbling ungraciously to the bottom-- 

**_No._ **

No, he would stretch his left hand up there again and he would grab that windowsill with impunity. With his damned teeth if he had to! 

Growling with primeval rage, Ramsey forced himself up with both arms despite such a feat causing him to shake furiously. When he lifted the one hand to grasp the windowsill, his remaining support of the other arm nearly gave out. He let out a roar and grabbed the sill, wasting as little time as possible to release his other hand from the roof to join its brother. 

Before he knew it, Ramsey was heaving himself into the window and over the sill. His legs kicked him the rest of the way in and he tumbled onto the attic floor. 

His first thought should have been  _ I’m safe now _ \-- instead it was  _ I’m gonna puke.  _ Before he could stop himself, Ramsey retched onto the wooden plank floor. His entire body was quaking now as if it was realizing and coming to terms with the fact that he nearly died not once but twice tonight. He collapsed onto the floor away from his sickness and stared at the sliver of sky he could see out the window. 

Perhaps other people would have been grateful for this experience. Their minds changed, their hearts ready to open to this new hardship of a life. But Ramsey was not other people and he was indignant with the idea that he might have to be in similar regards as the vague ‘other people’ for the rest of his life. 

He let out a soft but vexed groan before closing his eyes, still shivering. The open window probably wasn’t helping but Ramsey didn’t care. He felt depleted now... 

_ Tomorrow _ , Ramsey thought after a few minutes of absolute silence-- with some measure of exhausted numbness all over. Tomorrow he’d pick himself off this dusty attic floor, clean up, and go down to demand his birthright from the empress. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he was fine with one final night of being just another lost drunk grasping at hay straws. 

**Author's Note:**

> "...Nothing beside remains. Round the decay  
> Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare  
> The lone and level sands stretch far away."


End file.
